Ones and Zeros
by Pawhedge
Summary: Monika knows she doesn't deserve company, and she knows she doesn't deserve to see her friends, not after what she did. But isolation will do funny things to a person, when faced with an eternity of being alone. M for swearing an thoughts of suicide.


The celling was grey and unassuming. Its texture was uneven, in some areas it looked incredibly real, and in others it was a plain grey, a child's messy splatter of paint. That's what her whole house was like really, a smudged crayon drawing, with imperfect lines and muddled colors. Corporeal and non-corporeal, like something you see out of the corner of your eye, like an image appearing when your eyes shut tightly, abstract shapes and fuzzy lines.

Monika's best first attempt at large scale creation. It had gone poorly, naturally, coding and hacking was a delicate art, especially when you had no idea what kind of forces you were messing with. Not that there hadn't been plenty of time to learn and no one to distract her. Her friends might of at one point, emotionally at least- she would of thought of them constantly- the tragedy of it all brining her to desperate tears. Monika sneered.

They weren't real. They always reacted the same way, they'd always say the same things- their personalities fake and plastic, like eating a marshmallow. Sugary and full of preservatives, but devoid of substance- not to mention too many would make you sick. Not that she had ever really eaten one- she just somehow knew what they would taste like, just like she knew everything. Blurry memories of her past, of her 'backstory'. Her father and mother died in a car crash, she took care of herself. She didn't weep for them, she felt nothing, and she could barely remember them. A preprogrammed past for the player to uncover, she only really firmly 'remembered' the parts that she would of told him.

Monika's nails dug harshly into her palm as she curled her hand into a fist. The player. She had been obsessed with him (them really, but they were coded to identify as male here) as soon as he had arrived. Another living person? Someone with self-awareness and complex feeling that didn't bind themselves to cute semi-sexual cut scenes? She had been ecstatic. She had…she had murdered her friends. She had killed them. Even if they had inadvertently ended their own lives it was directly her own fault- meddling with coding, tampering with their 'emotions'. She had tortured them- and for what? The player had talked with her- or at least listened to her- for hours, and it had been beautiful and healing and she had felt whole for the first time since she woke up- and then they logged off. They left. Forever she assumed, since it had presumably been awhile. A few weeks in game, but who was counting other than Monika, there was no one left.

It had felt so right back then, not the awful gruesomeness to her murderers, she had tried her best to avoid that (to no avail) but deleting them. She had been guilty sure, but it had always been secondary to having the player all to herself. But her newly found god like status had made her careless and cruel- the realization that _nothing_ mattered had put her into a state of near insanity. Not that she wasn't still crazy now, but it was definitely less…erratic shall we say? No weird urges to kill, no panic and constant fear of rejection. Just…a dull emptiness. The emptiness of ones and zeros she supposed.

She realized now that she had made a mistake in deleting her friends. They might have been walking talking objects, but a walking and talking object was better company than a silent non-moving one. Which was all that existed, especially since this game had never actually had any npc's to start with. Natsuki's dad was probably the most real, and even then he was more of just a really convincing concept than an actual three dimensional character. And honestly, out of all the people to be real, Monika could do without Natsuki's abusive father.

But it wasn't like she could just pop her friends back into existence- well she could, it might take a few months for something that complicated- deleting things tended to be easier than reloading them- but what would that even accomplish? It would be the same empty interactions as before, but this time she'd have to look into sweet little Sayori's eyes, knowing she forced her to hang herself. Monika rolled out of her bed sluggishly, the covers shifting jaggedly along with her movement. She sat, staring numbly at the house that struggled to appear around her.

She wished she could delete herself. She really did. But for all she knew being deleted would be like being awake except for without sight. Which would be…worse than anything she could possibly imagine. So what now? Did she just wait for her mind to eventually give in? How long would that take? Months? Years? Monika crept silently through her halls, winding her way towards the exit of the jumble of a house. It really was ugly, but she wasn't yet bored enough to go through the hell of trying to create another. Plus, it felt a little bit like punishment. A half-finished mess of a house for a literal glitched out monster, how fitting. Her yard was a little nicer, as she had always been fonder of the natural world, or at least, she was originally programmed that way. She sat down on her porch, sullenly staring out into the thickly wooded forest surrounding her. This part of the world had been pre built, and if Monika were to guess she'd wager it was some sort of background for a future plot point. Which was why she had chosen to build her mess of a house here- it was admittedly very nice to look at. Whatever sick bastard that made this world had a very steady hand and an eye for color it appeared.

What now. What now. What now. Should she see how long she can stare out into nothing? Write some meaningless poems? Mess with the already damaged code of this world? There was nothing. She was nothing. Nothing was nothing nothing was everything _help her help hergodgodfucknonononononoo_

̧̠̮̩ͅḙ̸̛̳̀̔̐̆͊̔̒͛͜͝͝ņ̵̛̛͔͔̰̫͕͚̩̱͙͈͚̜̟̄̽͑͗̈́͌̚͠d̵̝͙͙̣̈͗̈͌̈̇̏͑ͅ ̷̤̘̺̹͖̹̗̿̾̌̐͂e̴͚̖͉̬͔̹̻͕̟͉͈͇͚͒̇̐̕͝n̶̛͎̒͑̇̇̿̔́̆̄́̕̕̚ḑ̵̢̝͉̹͔̞͐̆̈̈͆̄̉̚͠ ̷̢͉͔͕̜̫̫̭̻͇̏͐͛̎͊͝ě̴̛̬̮̍͂̔͛̈́́̇͊̄̍͆n̴̢͙̫̯̟̯̘͗́̃͛ͅͅḓ̶̡̡͙̱̰̼̪̻̪͍̹̈́͌̾ ̸̢̱̯̗͎͂͌̾̍̒͐͋̽̾̀͝h̴̨̧̡̦̭̖͈̰̞̘͎̱̗͎̏ͅe̸̹͗ȓ̶̘͎͖̼̰̿͛̍̇ ̴̧̨̮̜̣̯̹̿̐̏̆̎̒͆̌̉w̸̧̰͈̻͕̥̺̼͝h̴̢̛̛̳̠̳̪̠͖̲͐̎̀̀͒͗̓̈̽̋́͝͝y̵̨̺̱̳̟̮̼̼̓͆͑́̏́͝ͅ ̵̼͉̩̮̍̐͋̽͌̿̕w̵̧̧̡͍̖̖͎͍̹͗̎͘ơ̸̧̡̡̫͈̦̞̘̙͂͒̄̐͌̽̾̉̊̔̐͗̆̕ų̸͓̼̗̣̯̹̭̹͎̆̀̉́́ḷ̷̛͓͔̤̣͙̻͙̬̳̺̳̹̼̹͛̉͌̏̐̓̌̆͠͠͠d̷̨̢̛͓̜̣̋̆̈́̊̓͆̀ ̶̧̡͉̘̝̤͕̙̘̟̦̍̌̏́̀͑̈́̕͜ţ̴̘̪̭̥̻̞̹̹͓̤̤͉͙̎͜h̸̪̳͈̠̊̏̀̄̄̌́̚͝i̶͉̘͒͑ś̷͉̲̜͍̤͚́̆̐̓̍͝ ̶̧̣̳̰͙̻͓͈̤̈́s̶̛͙̮͍͍͍͎̳̏̀͗̈́̽̎͒͘͠t̴̗̪̻̱̼̣̱̀ŏ̴̫̯̉͊̿̂̀̽͘̚̕͝͝p̵̧̧͎͔̙͂͌̑̀̎̔͊̈̀͋̚͝ͅs̸̛̠̻̯͕̯͙͙͓̺̱̃̀͒͋̾͗̽͐̿̂̕ṭ̷̨̡͍̰̤̪̪͙̣͔̞̹̗̫̅́͐̅̋̉ǫ̶̧̛̘͉͔̹̩̥̟͙̺̖̈́͊̄̐̈́̽͒̂̌͗̓͋͝p̸̗͚̤̥̤̬̩̙̦̰̪̔̍̿͌̈́̌͝͝ṣ̸̡͓̊͛͛t̶̼̜͙̏̆́͌̂̑͘̚͘ǫ̴̨͓̗̫͗̆̅ͅp̸̮̦͙͙͇̞̗͚͖̻̮̠̊̽̔̃͑͊̀̃

w̸͎̺̪͚̤̣̹̤̹̎̃̿̑̌̅͐̍̓͜ḩ̸̛͚͕͎̥̗͙̱͖͔͔̳̇̋̍̓́̃͘ỳ̶̧͍̰̺̻̪̱̳͚͗͗̓ ̷̢̩̭͚̞͇̰̹͍̠͔̦̤͌̋̓͗̽̉̎̿̑̔̀̚̚č̷̼͔̰͈͖͊͑́̽̅̅̕͝ͅȏ̷̦̮͉̪͍̫͈̪̖̝̜͎̤̳̔̐̒̒̓͋̂̊͠ų̸̨̨͈͚̬͎̥̙̬̠̬̿͗̌̎̀̎́̌l̸̡̮̭̪͋͌͌̈͝d̴͚͔͈̰̼̮̹̹̖͎͋̈́̈́̓̽͜ͅ ̶̢̡̨̢̦͉̦̱͙͕͍͌̌͌̎̚͜s̴̨̻̩̬̲̥̣͎̞͕͕͍̖͐̅͌̒̂̔̇͂̂̍͋͑͘͝h̸̡̳̙͚̞̩͈̲͔̒̽̐́̈́͑̒̌̾͛̽̾͜͝ẹ̷̡̧̛͉̫͕͚̩̟̩̳̮̮͛̇̊̋ ̶̢̨̛̪̥̱̼͙̝̒͑͆̀̇̏̀̒͋͑̿̾̚͝d̴̡̢̛̙̐̐̆̂̑̊͝͝͝͝ḯ̴̦̝̒͒̉̓̔͠͝e̸̡̨̝͉̪̱̫͒́͛͑́̽̿̈́͗͐̅͌͊̈́͝

̶̨͋͊͗̌̃̈́̀̚͝d̸͍͉̼͗̋̕e̷̡̝̤̻̣̩̮̣̤̙̯͑̅͒̔͆̔̏̕l̶̟͉̠̦͖̰̼̼̀̒͛̇̽̿̉̄͂̒̑̑͝͝ę̵̛̤̪͎̤̘̲̳̫̥͇̀̏͌̆̏͆̈́́̆͑͜͜͝t̸̡̟̯͖̭̳̟̭̜̣̮̳̝̯͇͋́̾̃e̴̜̝̬̥̼̰̫̙̯̰̒

̵̳̬̑̓̉͠ḋ̴̢̨͂͋͆̒̒̀̀͗̍͘͘ę̸̧̧̭͔͍̬͖͇͚͚͔̭͎̑͊͌͛͊̈̄̇̃̿͊̋̔̌̀͜l̴̡̘̝͔̹̭̺̟̳̠͙̭͔̬̽͒̀̇͊͛̓̑͗͝ȇ̸̦̻͓̔̀̐̃̅̂̏͋́̀̔̚̕̕t̴̢͔̹̩̜̗̞̻̺̬̗̭̾̍̒̀̏̐̃̍͘̚͠͝e̶̞̥̝̯̮̹̗͐͐͛͗́̉̂͗

̶̧̨̻̙̣̻͎̙͔̥̑̒

Monika gasped, clutching her shirt harshly, her breath coming out in rough frantic coughs, her chest heaving wildly. Fuck. She had almost…she had almost done it again. She had almost…what? Deleted herself? Destroyed this world? She didn't know, but the very thought of whatever she had almost not done made her stomach sick. Must have been more original coding left over from her maker. A failsafe of sorts she supposed. Monika put her head between her knees.

She needed a distraction. Maybe she could…find a way to bring her friends back…maybe she could…make them aware too? God it was a selfish thought- a sociopathic one- to wish such a mild altering torture on anyone. She could never do that. No matter how awful she was…that was beyond her comprehension. Maybe instead…she could build them a better world? A new one, with actual npc's, and places and cities? Maybe she could give them a bit more awareness- not like her! Of course not. But enough so that they…had some sentience? Could act on their own? Was that even a possible balance? And making an actual environment like that- it would take forever…for the first time in a long time Monika felt herself smiling.

It was lucky then, she supposed, that she had exactly that.


End file.
